Lu Yanchen handed her an egg.
Wen Qiao shook her head and didn’t take it.
“I’m not hungry yet. You eat it.”
She really had no interest in boiled eggs.
“The road ahead is blocked. We’ll have to go around the back of the mountain. It’ll take at least two hours to reach the military farm.”
“Ah? That long?”
“Eat, you’ll need your strength.”
Wen Qiao still didn’t take it, only blinking her large, sparkling eyes at him.
“Help me peel it.”
Perhaps still half-asleep, her voice was soft, almost coquettish.
Lu Yanchen’s brows furrowed lightly, as if he were pondering some complicated problem.
After a brief standoff, Wen Qiao seemed to hear a low sigh.
A small smile curved her lips.
He had given in.
Soon, a pale, smooth egg was handed to her again.
Wen Qiao’s face lit up like a blooming flower.
Her voice was sweet.
“Thank you.”
As she took the egg, her little finger brushed lightly against the man’s palm, seemingly by accident.
Lu Yanchen’s Adam’s apple rolled, and a tingling sensation ran through his palm at the touch.
He clenched his fist, forcing down the strange sensation in his chest.
Once they finished eating, they prepared to set off.
When Wen Qiao stepped out of the cabin, she finally saw the condition of the road outside.
The winding mountain path had been almost destroyed by fallen trees and landslides after the typhoon.
Only mud pits and broken branches remained.
Frowning, Wen Qiao sighed and followed behind Lu Yanchen.
The mountain path was rugged and slippery; every step required extreme caution.
Lu Yanchen glanced back at her and deliberately slowed his pace to match hers.
Wen Qiao stepped into the mud pits, sinking unevenly with each footfall.
In some places, the mud was so deep it covered her ankles, squelching as she pulled her feet out.
After only a few steps, her shoes and socks were soaked with mud.
Many trees at the foot of the mountain had fallen, some uprooted entirely, and the air was heavy with the smell of damp soil mixed with decaying plants.
Gritting her teeth, Wen Qiao felt increasingly overwhelmed.
She was used to being chauffeured around; she had never endured this kind of hardship.
Carefully, she tried to avoid the mud pits, walking along the edges.
Suddenly, her foot slipped. She lost her balance and almost fell face-first into the mud.
A strong arm shot out in time, catching her.
“Careful, it’s slippery.”
Wen Qiao breathed a sigh of relief.
She looked up, about to thank him.
But Lu Yanchen suddenly pulled her behind him.
“Don’t move!”
His voice tightened sharply.
Following his gaze, Wen Qiao’s breath caught in her throat.
A nearly three-meter-long pit viper was coiled on a tree root, its triangular head raised high, fangs flicking in and out.
These snakes were highly venomous and aggressive; legend had it that anyone bitten would fall within five steps.
“Back up slowly,” Lu Yanchen instructed in a low voice.
“No sudden movements.”
Wen Qiao’s heart raced to her throat as she forced herself to stay calm.
Holding her breath, she carefully stepped backward.
“Crack.”
She had stepped on a broken branch.
The sharp sound echoed loudly through the forest.
The pit viper’s head snapped toward the noise, striking at Wen Qiao like a released arrow.
“Ah!”
Her shoe was stuck in a mud pit and she couldn’t pull it free. She only had time to raise her hands to protect her face.
In a split second, Lu Yanchen lunged forward. His right hand shot out like lightning and caught the snake mid-air.
Simultaneously, his left hand pinched the back of its head and twisted forcefully.
In moments, the thick snake convulsed a few times and then went limp.
Wen Qiao stared at the once venomous snake, now lifeless, her heart still pounding with fear but filled with gratitude and admiration for Lu Yanchen.
To catch a snake bare-handed—who could rival that?
Truly deserving of being the male lead.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely.
If it weren’t for him today, she definitely wouldn’t have survived.
Wen Qiao wasn’t sure whether the spiritual spring water could neutralize pit viper venom.
If it couldn’t, she might have died right here.
Even if it could, a single bite from that snake would still be excruciating.
Lu Yanchen’s face remained expressionless.
“You’re welcome.”
“Why did you save me?”
That had been a pit viper. A single misstep and his arm would have been pierced by its sharp fangs.
In this era, medical care was extremely primitive. Forget antivenom—there were hardly any antidotes.
A bite could mean death or amputation.
“Protecting educated youths is a soldier’s duty.”
“Oh.”
Wen Qiao studied his handsome face and smiled faintly.
Lu Yanchen turned, lowering his gaze.
He stared at his hands, a trace of confusion in his expression.
His reflexes had become unusually sharp.
The precision of his strength even surprised him.
It was as if his muscle memory had been rewired; his nerve endings conducted signals incredibly fast.
The snake was thicker than a bowl.
Previously, he could never have delivered a fatal move in one strike.
Something was off.
Lu Yanchen stared at his tense arm, veins bulging under the skin. Moves that used to take over ten seconds were now instinctively executed in an instant.
He couldn’t figure it out.
For things he didn’t understand, he never dwelled—after all, it was a good thing, so no need to worry.
“Let’s go.”
“Ow… it hurts.”
Lu Yanchen turned to look at her again.
Wen Qiao’s voice was soft.
“I twisted my ankle.”
Her expression was helpless.
She hadn’t braided her hair today, instead styling a princess bun, now slightly messy with a few strands framing her wet, pleading eyes.
Lu Yanchen lowered his gaze, glancing at her delicate ankle.
Her black shoes were caked with mud, and even the hem of her green skirt was splashed.
Wen Qiao looked frustrated.
Biting her red lips, she said,
“It hurts so much, I can’t walk. Can you carry me?”
As she spoke, she watched his expression carefully.
Lu Yanchen’s face was unreadable; his eyelids lowered, and he remained silent.
Wen Qiao guessed he had seen through her clumsy ploy.
No matter. Thick skin was one of her few advantages.
Even if a steel blade cut across her face, she’d just curl it.
If her acting wasn’t enough, her audacity would make up for it.
She chattered on, blatantly playing the moral card.
“You just said protecting educated youths is a soldier’s duty, didn’t you?”
“I’m hurt right now and need your help. You’re a soldier—you can’t just let me die.”
“Of course, if you don’t want to carry me, hugging me works too.”
Seeing Lu Yanchen unmoved, Wen Qiao frowned.
She squatted, pretending to rub her ankle, twisting her small waist.
“Ouch, it hurts so much.”
What a man of stone.
She had been so obvious, yet he didn’t budge.
No matter—if he didn’t carry her today, she’d simply refuse to walk.